I'm Addicted to Words and They're Useless
by Arnye
Summary: Post HBP. Where does Draco go after he leaves Hogwarts on the night that Dumbledore is killed? Who does he effect? Enter Manon Lepareaux, a student home from school for the summer who meets Draco and changes her life.


_A woman no older than eighteen sat in a dark, damp cell. Her dirty brown hair fell in front of her thin, pale face. She held her knees close to her and looked at the ground in despair. Beside her was a small, leather journal. She took the journal and shoved into a crack in the wall hurriedly. _

_She crawled back into a ball after she did it. She began to think about her life and how she ended up in a cell in Azkaban. How could she, Manon Lepareaux part of one of the oldest pureblood family lines in France, end up like this?_

_Manon sat in her cell for two weeks now, just bidding her time until the Dementor's Kiss. She remembered her trial. Manon remembered how she sat there and didn't argue. Everyone knew that she was guilty of her crimes and so much more._

_Where did her life go wrong? It went wrong when she met a boy._

_A large black wizard burst the cell door open. Manon recognized him as Kingsly something or other._

"_Manon Lepareaux," he said. Manon looked up at the man. "Follow me."_

_Manon got up and followed the man out of the cell. She saw that he had a look of pity on his face for her. _

_I saw her as they took her away. She looked so tragic and crestfallen, but that's what Azkaban does to you. It breaks you. _

_I was in the next cell over. I found the journal in the wall and began to read it._

June 24th

Dear Diary,

Gosh, I've never had one of these before. I guess I should describe myself. My name is Manon Lepareaux and I live in Crespain in southern France. I attend Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I just completed my 6th year. I'm 16, nearly 17. My father is never around though. He works for Le Bureau de Magie in Paris. My mother simply stays home. I would imagine that it would be lonely in our estate with only the maids. There aren't many other wizards around. We live in a muggle town, shocking I know. The nearest magical community is Marseilles, and that's nearly an hour by broomstick 

It feels weird writing in this. Mother said it would help me get through growing up among other things. I don't see why. Next year is my last year at school and I'm guaranteed a job inside Le Bureau because of Father.

I guess I should describe how my day has been. Boring to say the least and then things got interesting. I came home from school to find that Mother wasn't home. Whatever, probably at someone's house getting drunk. I went up to my room and unpacked. There was something odd though; one of the guestrooms had bags in them. I hope that it's not one of our relatives. They hate the fact that we don't live in the city and that we live near muggles. Honestly, they're not that bad. True they're pretty stupid but it's not like we live next door to mountain trolls or anything.

Anyway, I put away my things with magic, because I can do it outside of school now and I grabbed my painting supplies. Mother doesn't like it when I paint. She calls it a "muggle activity," not fit for proper wizarding society.

I decided to go down to the garden. We have this huge garden with olive trees, flowers, moving statues, topiary, hedge mazes, and this beautiful spring from which everything grows. There was something peculiar on the patio that looked out onto the garden today. Sitting on a stone wall was a boy about my age. His platinum blond hair fell in front of his face as he stared into the garden.

"Excuse me," I said to him. He turned around. That boy on the ledge was the most beautiful boy that I've ever seen. That platinum blond hair fell in front of beautiful, piercing gray eyes. His robes clung to his body in all the right places showing off that he had muscles.

"Yes?" He replied cockily.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Sitting."

I groaned.

"Okay…but who are you and why are you at my house?"

He got off the ledge and extended his hand.

"Draco Malfoy," he said. I shook his hand. He took my hand up to his mouth and kissed it. I rolled my eyes. I live in France, every guy did that. When guys have kissed your hands since you were ten, it gets kind of annoying after the first four years. I mean, sure it's sweet when hot guys do it, but when ugly guys do it, it's just awkward.

By no means am I saying that Draco Malfoy is ugly. He's quite the opposite.

"My mother and I are staying with you for the summer at least," he continued releasing my hand.

"Why?" I asked setting up my easel.

"Because we are," he replied quickly.

He watched in silence as I poured some paints on my palate. As soon as I got some paint on my brush and touched it to the canvas, he asked me what I was doing. I smeared some cadmium red across the canvas.

I turned around and glowered at him. At that moment, Mother walked out onto the patio with another woman. This woman was slightly taller than mother with wispy blond hair framing her face.

"Ah, I've see that you've noticed that you've met one of our guests," Mother said. "This is Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother."

I shook her hand. Mother told me to go upstairs and get ready for dinner. In an hour or so, I came back down for dinner. I don't see why dinners need to last hours, but whatever, we had guests so I'll talk to mother about this later.

Draco sat next to me. He looked really good. I mean when I first saw him I was like, okay whatever, he's cute. But now, he's like DAMN! THAT BOY IS FINE! He sure does clean up well.

Anyway, the meal was boring, but I was sure that Draco touched my leg a couple of times. When I caught him, he just smirked sexily at me. This is going to be an interesting summer.


End file.
